


Love is Blind

by super_queer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles, Comforting Derek, Implied Relationships, M/M, No Sex, Non AU, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, blind!Stiles, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:17:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 14,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/super_queer/pseuds/super_queer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles loses his sight in a terrible accident, but Derek is determined to give him a good life regardless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accident

**Author's Note:**

> From Derek's POV, in 1st person, because we don't see much of that.

I heard the most agonizing noise erupt from about fifty feet behind me. I knew instantly that it was Stiles, his scream tore through my ears, making my heart clench with fear. I turned and ran down the hall of Beacon Hills High School to the sound. 

Stiles was no more than a puddle on the ground looking pitiful and broken. I was immediately filled with rage when I saw Peter standing over him, laughing. Just laughing like the psychopath Stiles always told me he was.

I shifted quickly, ignoring the pain of my bones displacing under my skin, and ran over to the scene. I pushed Peter off of Stiles and dug my claws deep into his throat. The bastard was laughing the whole time.

I ran back over to Stiles’ side. I wanted to lift him up, to comfort him. But he looked so delicate, so breakable, and I didn’t want to hurt him more. He had large gashes across his face through his eyes, and another set on his stomach. They looked deep and potentially fatal.

Heat crept up my face and tears burned my eyes. Stiles was shaking silently, occasionally emitting a small heart- breaking gurgle.

I settled with scooping him into my arms and resting his head in my lap. My tears fell down my face and into his hair. “Stiles, can you hear me?” I asked him, praying for an answer I wasn’t sure if I was going to receive.

“Derek? Is that you.” He weakly lifted and arm and felt for my face. I captured his fingers and kissed the tips.

“Yeah, Stiles. It’s me. Are you okay?” I winced at the question, knowing the answer.

“I could be better, I guess.” He coughed and gurgled in my arms, squirming in pain. Silent tears began to fall down his face that I captured and wiped away.

“Shhh… you’re gonna be fine.” I tried not to sob, I wanted him to believe it. I cradled his face in my hands and rubbed soothing circles onto his temples. I don’t want to lose Stiles. I’ve already lost my whole family. He’s the closest thing I have.

“Just- just let me die, Derek.” The words struck the air like lighting and I couldn’t control the damaged sob that was released from deep within my chest.

“No, no, Stiles. You don’t mean that, please, Stiles don’t say that.” My tears fell in continued streams down my face and onto his, uncontrollably. 

He sniffled below me. “I can’t see, Derek. I- I’m blind.” He shuddered and sobbed and I pressed him tighter to my chest. The blood from his wounds was leaving quickly and Stiles was looking pale. I pressed my hand to his injury and concentrated, attempting to alleviate the pain.

Stiles’ squirming came to a halt when I was done. He was in less pain, but he wasn’t better. Tears continued to fall quietly from the boy. I began to rock back and forth, holding him and wishing.

“Derek?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, Stiles?”

A moment of silence, and Stiles’ wasn’t looking at my, more like beyond me when he uttered, “I love you.” I’m sure that if I was human I wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

Stiles stilled and I felt the familiar feeling of loss creating a cavernous hole in my chest. I let out a sorrowful howl, before returning my gaze to Stiles.

“I love you so much, Stiles, please don’t leave me.” I pressed a kiss to his forehead and listened to his breath become slower and slower.

A steady stream of blood began to drip out of the corner of his mouth, accompanied with a low gurgle in his lungs. He gave a final jerk, and without a second thought, I shifted and sank my fangs into his neck.

I was not losing him today.


	2. Truth

I wasn’t going to leave him. I sat with him until Scott showed up. He said he heard my howl. One look at Stiles’ though and he ran down an opposite hallway and I heard the sounds of him vomiting. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the dwindling life I held. I stared blankly for hours, letting tear after tear roll down my face silently.

Stiles was still the whole time, not making a sound suggesting he was still holding on besides the occasional murmur of his heart. The beats were so slow and far apart, I almost begged for them to stop, just so that he’d no longer be in pain.

Deaton showed up sometime later, but I wouldn’t let him touch Stiles. I didn’t know what he could do, and I know he was my family’s advisor, but I just couldn’t let him touch Stiles.

The two ended up leaving us there, promising to come by tomorrow.

A few minutes later is when it happened. The agonizingly slow thrum of Stiles’ heart began to quicken, and with every breath the gurgle of his lungs lessened. I picked my head up and stared wordlessly at him as the gashes on his face and torso began to heal and fill, becoming flush with his skin, leaving no trace of an injury. 

I once again began to rub circles on Stiles’ temples, the hope burning and rustling in my chest. All at once Stiles gasped and his eyes darted around.

His eyes. What was usually a warm brown was clouded over with a light blue film, sheerness I know he couldn’t see through.

Stiles groped for my shirt, sputtering and coughing, so I caught his hand and held them to my chest. I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned forward to press my head to Stiles’. He jerked at the sensation because he wasn’t prepared for it, but then stilled and began to breathe evenly.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles.” It was all my fault. If I hadn’t listened to him about Peter, then Stiles could still see, and more importantly be human, I felt a pang of guilt hit me. I was being so selfish, giving Stiles the Bite.

Stiles let out a shuddering breath. “I feel… different.” 

“I know Stiles, I’m sorry.” I kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Why?”

“I turned you.”

Stiles’ face was withdrawn and reserved when I pulled back to look at it. “Why?” His eyelashes fluttered and he gritted his teeth as if he was trying not to cry.

“You were dying, Stiles. I couldn’t lose you; it was all my fault that you got hurt. I didn’t think that you wouldn’t be able to see. I’m so sorry.” I love you, I wanted to say.

Stiles sat up in my arms and attempted to stand. I scrambled up to help him, but he pushed my arms away ineptly. He swayed on his feet and sniffled, “Just leave me alone.” He shuffled his feet pitifully and walked out of the room, hands feeling up the walls as he walked.

I felt horrible. I sunk into myself thinking of what I’ve done. I care so much for Stiles, but not enough to let him be happy. He would have been happier dead. The thought sickened me.

I heard him crying a few minutes later, I was still planted in the spot, but I could tell he was in a part of the school that was far from the exit. I walked to him quietly so I didn’t startle him and found his sitting in a crumpled mass in the corner of a classroom.

“I’m lost.” He whispered between sobs. I approached him and snuck my hands under his waist and knees slowly to lift him. He clung to my neck and we stalked out the building, my love shuddering and sobbing in my grip.


	3. Lost

I took him to my house. I mentally thanked Scott for buying all the dumb furniture when I laid Stiles down on the bed. I didn’t deserve to crawl into the bed with him, so I turned to head for the couch when I heard a small voice say, “Stay?”

I turned around and looked at Stiles, who wasn’t looking at me. I may never get used to that. “What?” I ask him incredulously.

“Don’t leave me again, please. I don’t want to be alone.” He began to shake again so I rushed over to him and crawled in bed. When I reached out to touch his shoulder, he flinched and wiggled away from me. That’s fair; I don’t deserve to touch him, not right now, not anymore. 

“I’m sorry.” I breathed to him for the millionth time that night. I really meant it.

“I know.”

I knew I was pressing my luck when I reached for his shoulder again. He didn’t flinch this time, so I extended my arm in front of his chest and pulled him close. I know that if I was in his position, I’d want to feel safe like this, rooted to an object in the endless darkness.

I think he felt the same way because his hands drifted up to grip my arm. “I know” he said again, softly. He drifted off, using my arms as an anchor in the endless sea of black that was now his life.

It was all my fault, Stiles didn’t deserve this, and I didn’t deserve Stiles.

I didn’t leave him though, even though I thought that was the right thing to do. I was going to be there when he woke up, and I was going to help him get through this. No matter how long it takes.

I would just have to learn to live with the dull ache in my heart every time I looked at him, the pain that made me remember how selfish I was. The guilt flooded over me like a weighty blanket and I fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning to an empty bed. The fear of a plethora of situations consumed me and I listened hard for a heartbeat within the house. There was one not far off, so I stalked after it. I found Stiles in a crumpled heap in what was someday meant to be a functioning bathtub. He was weeping quietly but his head perked up when I entered the bathroom.

“Do you know where you are?” I asked him.

“No.” He sobbed. “Everything’s black, Derek. I’ll never see a movie again, or the sunset, or even your stupid face. The last time I saw you, you were angry. That’s how I’m going to remember you.” He shook his head, staring straight forward.

I remembered the situation well. Stiles was going on about how crazy Peter was, and how we needed to stop him. I got so mad. Peter was the only family I had left. I bowed my head in thought until I heard Stiles shift in the tub.

I looked up to see him reaching out to me in the distance, zombie-like and hesitant. I took his hands in mine and brought them so my face. He stroked my features, trying to familiarize himself, trying to remember. 

I took his hands and brought them to my lips. I wanted him to know what it felt like when I said this, “I love you.”

Stiles drew back his hands and stared, tears still trickling down his face. “I know.”

I swallowed and reached in the tub to help him up. He was initially resistant, but eventually let me help him stand and step over the lip of the tub.

I love you. It killed me that he wouldn’t say it back, but I didn’t expect him to either. I have single handedly ruined his life and I don’t ever deserve to be forgiven, no matter what I do.


	4. Strength

I helped him into the living room. He asked for his phone and I let him feel it for a minute. I knew he wasn’t going to be able to dial anything, so I tried to help him. He snatched his hands back quickly.

“Let me do this.” He whispered.

He pressed the middle button and pulled the screen up with no problems. He sat there for a while before holding the middle button down and asking Siri to ‘call Dad’.

I smiled lightly at his cleverness. If anyone could beat this it would be Stiles. He wouldn’t let this just overcome him, and he certainly wasn’t helpless, always so headstrong and smart.

He put the phone to his ear, keeping a straight face.

“Stiles?”

“Hi, Dad.” Stiles shoulders began to shake at his father’s words and fought off a choked sob.

“What’s wrong? Where were you last night?” His concern was evident in his voice.

“Dad- I… I’m gonna be gone for a few days, okay?”

“Stiles-“

“No, Dad just listen, okay? I need some time. Don’t come looking for me, I’m gonna come back soon, I just-“ He held his voice firm, then bowed his head and hot tears ran down his face. I thirsted to comfort him, to take him into my arms and tell him everything was going to be alright, but I had no right to do that.

“Stiles, just tell me what happened.”

“I can’t.”

“Son-“

“Not yet. I just have to figure some stuff out, okay? Goodbye Dad… I love you.”

“STILES!”

Stiles pulled the phone away from his face and stared in the direction of the cries the sheriff was making on the other end. I gently plucked the phone from his hand and clicked END. Stiles continued to shudder silently.

“What am I going to do, Derek?” his words were emotionless, and shook me to the core.

I bowed my head down. “I want to tell you that I know, that you will get better. But you know already that may not be true. I want to help you though, as much as I possibly can. You are my only priority and I promise to do everything I can for you.” I lifted my head to face him, he was looking at my mouth. “if you’ll let me.”

He closed his eyes and let out a long shaky breath. “Well, I guess I could use all the help I can get. And you better explain to me all this werewolf shit.”

I nodded stupidly, before saying an audible ‘yes’ to the blind boy in front of me. “I’m sorry.”

His head jerked up and his eyes snapped open, looking at where the words left my mouth. “Why do you keep saying that?” he asked firmly, with a hint of vehemence.

I swallowed. “Because I mean it.”

“Do you just want me to forgive you?” he stood quickly, and I replicated his movement. “I’m blind, Derek!” he growled before proceeding to stomp around the room.

He bumped into walls tripped over furniture, earning himself small scraps that healed before my eyes. He cried out every time at the pain before muttering, “I’m blind, I’m blind.” Finally he collapsed in a corner, bringing his knees to his chest and his head on top of his arms.

The sight was pitiful and devastating. He began to shake more violently so I ran to him and took him in my arms. He pushed and screamed at me, with new found strength, but I held firm. I hooked my arms around him, pressing him flush with my body. He writhed and squirmed before eventually stilling, sobbing into my shirt.


	5. A Test

Deaton came by that day, only to tell us what we already know. Stiles may never see again. Great. We decided it would be best to have him stay here, in a familiar place to try and get a feel for how things are going to be from now on. I took him outside the next day, so he could at least feel the wind on his face and listen to the sound of the trees. In time he will get good at sensing the directionality of sounds, and sight will not be necessary in the event of an attack or other similar situation. 

He stared off into the woods behind my house, the wind whipping blush onto his skin. He looks so peaceful, so fragile. He concentrated intently on sounds from all directions. A twig snapped about fifty feet away, I could tell it was just a squirrel, but his eyes widened as he frantically searched for the sound. A pine cone fell from a tree in the opposite direction, closer, and Stiles’ heartbeat quickened exponentially. He took a step backwards, disturbing a fallen branch and creating more noise. Stiles’ breathing quickened to a point where it became, short, jagged, and apparently painful. He fell to his knees with a soft thud and a crinkling of leaves.

I didn’t want to scare him further so I announced myself as I approached him. “Stiles, it’s okay, it’s me. Shhhh, breathe Stiles.” I sat on the ground next to him, where he had fallen. I knew that while he was panicking, he didn’t want to be crowded, so I simply took his hands in mine, and when I met no resistance, breathed in and out deeply so that he could match my pace.

After a good twenty minutes, Stiles came down from his attack. “It’s so loud out here, Derek.” He whispered, looking towards the woods. I felt another pang of guilt.

I wondered whether or not I should apologize again, knowing full well he didn’t want to hear it. I instead brought his fingers to my mouth and kissed them again, saying, “It will get easier.”

He pouted, evidently wanting to come back with something snarky but just ended up furrowing his brow and shaking his head. “I want to believe you.”

“Please just trust me Stiles, I will do every-“

“Like how you trusted me? About Peter?” he deadpanned. His words cut into me, sending the burning sting of regret to my face. My eyes stung and I sniffed. His head snapped towards me at the sound. 

“I’m sor-“

“I know. I know. I get it too, the whole Peter thing. He was your only family, why would you just believe some 17 year old kid all hopped up on Adderall, huh? Someone who loved you and has never lied to you.” He looked away again before picking up a leaf from the forest floor and ripping it into small pieces.

“I’ve never trusted anyone more.”

He looked at me quizzically. “Then… why?”

I swallowed, “Peter was all I had left. He was my blood. But I should have listened to you. If we’d stopped Peter, then I still would’ve had you. I just didn’t see it that way, and now I’ve lost everything. I’ve ruined your life and my own.” A beat. “I’ll keep apologizing, even though I know you’ll never forgive me. I regret every action I took in the situation, I was just trying to do what was right. I didn’t want to lose you, it would’ve killed me.” I love you. My eyes welled up and I scrubbed my face with my hands.

“… what makes you think you don’t have me?” his voice was so small, I thought I imagined it.

I stared at him in disbelief, “Stiles, you’re blind because of me. How could you possibly want to even be near me?”

Stiles shifted so he was facing me. His hand reached out towards my face, which I guided him to. His brows furrowed when he felt the moisture from my tears. He breathed deep before saying almost inaudibly. “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” His hand dropped to his lap and his head fell down with it. “…because I’m broken.”

I took him in my arms and pressed as tight as I could without hurting him. His tears created a small spot of moisture that pooled larger on my shirt. When the wind hit the spot, we shivered, which only made me pull him closer. “No, Stiles, you’re not broken.” I began to rock back and forth, holding him like a child. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” I pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

He reached up for my face again and found my lips; he brought his face up to his hand and kissed the corner of my mouth softly, carefully. “I love you, too.” He whispered, looking beyond.


	6. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles POV now

I’m hoping that someday, I can be as cool as the blind guy from Balls of Fury, sans falling down elevator shafts. 

I know, I’m such an optimist, right? Wrong. 

Black. That’s all there is now. No matter how many times I blink or stain my eyes, I can’t see.

Just emptiness, abyss.

I don’t blame Derek. Hell, I was only mad at him because I thought he wouldn’t want me anymore. I’m defective. Partial.

I don’t get why he still wants to be around me. I act super ungrateful. It’s true that I wanted to die, still do to be honest. But I see now how that would kill Derek. I’m going to be strong for him. 

I’m not going to be a very effective member of the pack. I realized one night that Derek’s my alpha, and I’m his beta. It doesn’t seem to bother him though. He helps me everywhere and is trying to teach me to rely more on sounds. I can hear his heartbeat, now. Besides that being really fucking cool, it’s also really fucking sad. Whenever I fall, his heartbeat quickens. Whenever I cry, it thuds and screams in my ears like it’s the only thing that makes noise. Derek is always there to pick me back up and comfort me. It doesn’t take werewolf senses to know that he still loves me.

And that feels great. It gives me hope to continue.

It would be a real tragedy if I couldn't hear or talk. A Stilinski’s main defense is his fast, witty comebacks and eloquent way of speaking. I should be grateful, but I can’t bring myself to be. I feel empty and lost.

Falling asleep is a redundant task. I used to shut my eyes and turn the world off in order to gain solace and sweet unconsciousness. But now the world is always off. So I stay awake as long as possible, begging to sense signs of life.

I wandered out one night, leaving the warm, sleeping Derek to wake up to an empty bed. I don’t do this to upset him, quite the opposite. I usually end up back in bed, because of his even breathing, heartbeat, and surprisingly comforting scent that I’m fairly perceptive to these days.

I don’t want him to see me cry, I know it upsets him, it gives off a scent.

Yeah, I can smell emotions now, it’s fucking weird.

I go down the stairs ineptly, clinging to the wall and toeing down each one like I’m getting into cold water. I bet it looked pretty funny. Once down I stop to smell the rooms. I’m getting better at this now, there’s a lot of Derek scent on the couch. Maybe he’d be proud of me if he knew about the navigation skills I practice in the wee hours. I stumble towards the scent with my arms out and my feet shuffling across the hardwood. I call this technique ‘stingray detection.’

I’m hilarious.

I’m devastated.

I fall onto the couch less-than-gracefully and proceed to do the usual sobbing with my face down in the cushions. I’m surprised that I have any tears left, really. The soothing scent of Derek keeps me rooted to Earth, when I really feel like drifting off into complete blackness.


	7. Awaken

I didn’t mean to fall asleep on the couch that night. I awoke to the strong thudding of a heart approaching me, coupled with heavy steps all but running down the stairs. I recognized Derek’s scent and sat up. My whole body felt numb, and my face felt paralyzed with dried tears. I opened up eyes and mouth wide, trying to break free from their grip before rubbing my face and cracking my neck.

The couch is super uncomfortable. Well, it is when you sleep on it face first and ass in the air, with your neck contorted in strange, inhuman ways. I stretch my legs out, only to be denied by what I’m guessing was the coffee table. I huff in pain when my legs hit the surface, which is about the time Derek enters the room. 

His heartbeat is frantic and off the charts, but when he catches sight of me it calms slightly.

“Stiles? What are you doing out here?” his voice is masked with sleep.

“Oh, you know. Hanging out.” I have no idea what I’m looking at, but I’m certain it’s not him. I thirst to see him again, his cute sleep mused hair and half lidded eyes. I think that’s what I miss the most.

“Stiles, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Is it? I wouldn’t know, Derek.” It came out a lot harsher than I meant for it too. I winced in regret at the sound of my own voice. I immediately caught the scent of sadness. I suffered from secondhand guilt and remorse.

Derek’s sleepy voice sobered up and he said, “That was stupid. Oh, god, I’m sorry. I just-“

I silenced him by standing and pulling him into a sloppy hug. He stiffened at the contact and I wondered what it looked like, I don’t even know if this is his front. He could’ve thought I was attacking him for all I know. After a moment, he relaxed and wrapped his arms around me, making it more like a real hug. The newly adjusted position felt solid and secure and I closed my eyes, imagining his face.

I wasn’t finding what I wanted, I could on see him angry, so I opened my eyes. I pulled back from our embrace and reached out, trying to find his face. I felt the stubble of his jaw and followed it up to his temple before turning and coming to a rest between his eyebrows. I felt the worry lines deepen and crease beneath my fingers. I moved my hand and felt where his mouth was tugged down at the corners. I dropped my hand.

“Now, don’t make that face.” I pleaded. I wanted him to be happy so badly. I knew he blamed himself and looks at me like I’m fragile and he shouldn’t touch me. It doesn’t take eyes to know that.

“I worry about you. Constantly.” He pulled me into a hug that said it all. Leaving his side and running away was no good for Derek. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

I don’t want to get lost either, and hell, I was thinking quite the same thing the first night of my blindness. I wanted nothing more than to have him by my side, reminding me that it was all real. We have to stick together. “Thanks for finding me.” I meant it.

“Let’s go back to bed.” I felt him press a kiss to my temple and I closed my eyes and exhaled, feeling the familiar scrape of stubble on my forehead. 

I shifted so that my arms were draped around his neck and I felt him move his arms down my back and past my ass, gipping my thighs and pulling up. I wrapped my legs around his torso while he carried me up the stairs as if I were weightless.

I was lulled by the sound of Derek’s heartbeat by the time we were back in the bedroom. I felt the warmth of the bed press up against my side as Derek lowered me onto it, he must’ve laid me on his side. I felt the weight shift as he crawled into bed with me, pulling a sheet over both of us. 

I wasn’t facing him, but turned to do so and wriggled towards the heat he was radiating. Once I was pressed up against his chest, I felt his weighty arms encircle me, rooting us together. My head was nuzzled in his neck and his above my head. Our legs were entangled, feebly trying to make us one. I needed him as much as he needed me. We lay there tessellating, for god knows how long before each other’s warm breaths forced us into slumber.

I remember waking up once more to him shifting and kissing my forehead, murmuring sweet nothing’s into my hair.


	8. Transitions

I’m embarrassed. That’s all I can think to say about how life is now. I don’t take showers alone, I can only eat solid and room temperature food unless I want to hurt myself, and I can’t even use the bathroom in privacy. I know that it doesn’t bother Derek, helping me with all this. Every passing day I become more desensitized to these woes. I know where the bathroom is now and I can smell where food is hidden. He still insists on helping regardless.

In the night I will feel around for the toilet and sit on it, even if I don’t have to go, just to prove to myself that I can do it. (Of course I can’t piss by myself. That’s heartbreaking.) I strip my clothes and put them back on. Over and over. The tags help me get them in the right direction, at least.

This only aids in making me feel crippled and inept. I want to learn, I want to get better at everyday tasks.

Oh, god. I want to see.

It’s actually been a few weeks now, but I call my dad occasionally to keep him satiated. He sounds more and more detached every time I talk to him. At least he’s played his part and not tried to look for me. Maybe he has, I have no idea. It sucks, I know he’s worried about me, but I can’t leave yet. I’m not ready.

My first full moon is coming, I can feel it.

The feeling the full moon brings is difficult to describe, especially when you’re blind. It’s like I feel my own gravitational pull to the moon. It beckons me towards it, and the pull gets stronger and stronger each day preceding the full moon night. I feel more primitive, animalistic, not like myself at all.

It becomes harder to concentrate on what Derek is teaching me. After he’s talking to me for a while, I start to zone out, feeling the pull of the moon. More than once, I will lash out at him. He doesn’t reciprocate though. 

I can’t explain it any other way than… I feel like… a wolf.

I remember chaining Scott up during his full moons. Derek insists on doing the same, even though I’m thinking I’ll just run into walls for a few hours, like the house is my own prison. I’m thinking that my muscle memory won’t kick in and help me outside. Who knows though, right? I could be the most destructive, volatile, monster out there.

The day of the full moon, I felt extremely primal. Whenever Derek would say something to me, I would just grunt. He was trying his best to help me. I wished that I could listen somewhere deep down.

Before night fell, Derek took me down somewhere under the house. It was cold and the air was thick with moisture. He lowered me down to the ground against a wall. I shivered at the contact from the freezing surface. I heard something heavy being dragged across the- cement?- floor. A rustling and clanking of metal later, Derek was chaining me to the floor. 

“What are you even chaining me to?” I asked, dead, emotionless.

“There are metal hooks bolted into the ground. They’ve held firm for many full moons.”

“Wait, what? Why do you have all this stuff?” I felt him wrap his arms around my waist, a feeling quickly replaced by cold chains encircling my torso.

“In case you’ve forgotten Stiles, I am a werewolf. My whole family- werewolves. This is our house. Do you understand, now?”

Ouch. I didn’t care though. I felt the moon yank at me through the darkness. “Yes.” My voice sounds low, like someone else’s, followed by a low growl. I shake my head in an attempt to snap out of it. “Why isn’t this affecting you, Derek?”

“Because I have an anchor.”

“What is it?”

“Love.”

“Love?”

“For you.”


	9. Full Moon

I felt constricted, like I wasn’t meant to be in this body, in these chains. I thrashed around like the only thing that was important was getting out. 

I try so hard to focus on my anchor, Derek. I can hear him shouting at me through the darkness, telling me to hang on. To focus on what is real. He says to pick an emotion that I feel strongest and most often. I choose love. Love is what is real.

And Derek is real.

Regardless, I feel myself slipping in and out of the world. Drifting between Earth and the moon. I am a monster inside that wants to break free. I feel it deep within me, scratching at the walls of my mind, howling, panting.

My skin starts to feel too hot, too tight. My bones shift and press against my skin, stretching it. I cry out, although it comes out as more of a growl. The pain is intense, if you could imagine your bones moving. My ears feel like they’re getting longer, and my mouth feels too small for my growing teeth.

I thrash and struggle in the chains. I need to get out. I need to run. I need to… kill.

This desire surpasses all others, and piece by piece I’m losing Stiles.

And that’s when I see it.

The moon.

In my fit, I saw something. I’ve been blind for weeks, but I saw something. My eyes are open and I’m not imagining it, I swear. I’m guessing it was through a window, because when I try to get a better angle, it disappears. There is nothing else but the moon, no stars, no room. 

I need nothing else but to get to the moon. It’s calling me, screaming at me. I feel my bindings weaken as I pull. I feel powerful and limitless, suddenly, as my bindings break away.

There’s pressure on the sides of my face abruptly, bringing me back to my senses. The moon flickers in and out of view. I need it to stay, I want to keep seeing something, anything, but a noise is calling me back to Earth in the distance.

“Stiles!”  
No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. I’m losing my sight all over again.

“Stiles! Stay with me, c’mon Stiles! Stiles, your anchor, find what’s real. Stiles!”

My anchor? What’s real? I’m drifting again, but I don’t know which way to go. It’s like purgatory. I’m so lost. What’s real?

Derek. Derek is real.

His hands are on my face, trying to pull it towards him. He migrates to my shoulders and shakes me. I feel like I’m returning to almost normalcy, because once again, I see nothing.

“Stiles, can you hear me?”

I nod weakly towards the sound of his voice. Everything’s coming back now. I’m still shifted, I can feel it. It just feels less natural now, more uncomfortable.

Slowly but surely my teeth and ears shorten. Any hair I grew sinks painfully back into my face. I really want to know what I look like, especially my eyebrows. What if they just disappear, like Derek’s? That’d be weird.

Suddenly I’m panting and sweating, and the chains are too cold against my burning skin.

“How long has it been?” I ask Derek as he loosens the chains.

“Around six or seven hours.” His voice is hoarse, I have no idea how long he’d been screaming.

“You waited with me all night?” My voice is so small, so human.

“Yeah.”


	10. Reunite

It seemed like a good idea at the time. 

After I got through my first full moon, I felt it was time to return back home to my dad. I called him of course, to let him know. He sounded so relieved, so happy. I’d say it’s been three weeks since I’ve seen him. Well, I say SEEN… but, you know. This brought me to the realization that I’ll never see him again.

Swell.

Derek takes me back into town to my house. Sitting in a car is a lot different, I can feel the rumble, but I can hear all the parts turning, winding and chafing together. After about a half an hour, we come to a stop and Derek shuts off the Camaro’s engine. At that time I become aware of another heartbeat, faster that Derek’s but not as fast as my own. I really have no idea how to explain this all to my dad. He knows about werewolves, yeah. But I don’t think the, ‘Hey, dad. You remember my werewolf friend Derek, right? Yeah, his werewolf uncle, Peter, cut my eyes open and now I’m blind. Oh, and I’m a werewolf too now, courtesy of Derek.’ is going to cut it.

I mean, I could try, but…

Derek gets out of the car and crosses around it to help me out. He grabs my hand and leads me over to the other heartbeat, increasing with almost the same intensity as mine. I know it’s Dad, because he smells like the cologne I buy him on Christmas. I kept my eyes closed, so that he doesn’t see the color just yet. We come to a stop in front of the heartbeat. There’s a moment of silence before I hear.

“Stiles? Whu-?”

It’s my dad and I already feel my throat closing up. My shoulders shake as my tears rush down my face. I want to see my dad so badly. I feel an arm loop around my neck and I’m suddenly being pulled into an equally wet hug. Derek’s hand slips out of mine and I try to wrap my arms around my dad. Apparently, I did it wrong because I’m getting pushed back by my shoulders. I think I’m being examined like my dad usually does when I used to come home late due to a Scott related shenanigan. He pushes at the sides of my face and under my chin, trying to find injuries, but I just keep my eyes shut tight.

“Stiles, where have you been?” he asks me, dropping his hands.

“That’s a long story, Dad.”

“Why aren’t you opening your eyes?”

I shake my head.

“Stiles?”

I open my eyes, but look downward. I start to sob as I look up, agonizingly slow. I don’t know if I’m even looking at him, or just towards his heartbeat.

“Oh, shit.” His hands are back on my shoulders again. “Stiles, what the hell happened??” He sounds panicked and angry. I shudder, remembering what it looks like when he gets mad. He shakes my shoulders when I don’t answer.

“Stiles, who did this?” I shrug out of his arms and take a step back. I feel Derek interlace his fingers back through mine. The smell of anger and confusion is overwhelming.

“Just tell him the truth, Stiles.” Derek says lowly. I don’t want to, because it sounds like Derek’s fault.

Apparently that didn’t matter, because that’s what my overprotective father thought anyway.   
“You did this, didn’t you? You piece of shit, mutt!” Derek lets go of my hand and the noises of the two men migrate behind me. “It’s always you, and this supernatural shit! Using him, hurting him! I have had enough!” I hear the snapping of a gun, turning it’s safety off I’m guessing. “I have wolfs-bane bullets, asshole.”

Bang.


	11. Bullets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek POV

The pain is unimaginable. I stumble backwards as the searing agony rips through my right shoulder. I stagger backwards, hearing the muffled cries of Stiles.

“Derek, no!” Stiles screams in my direction. He stumbles forward and trips. I lunge forward to catch him, but the pain is too great and I can already feel the poison spreading. I fall to my knees at the same time Stiles’ face hits the pavement with a disturbing cracking noise and I see his eyes flash yellow. His dad rushes to him, but he pushes him off, standing up and stumbling towards me. “NO!” he screams again. His dad loops his arms under Stiles’ and drags him back toward the house.

His heartbeat is a devastating sound, it thuds and quakes in my ears almost as bad as my own, which I can feel stuttering at irregular intervals. I can only imagine what he must be thinking. Stiles gets pulled inside the house, fighting at his dad, searching for me. The last I see of him is his face red with tears and his veins bulging out of his neck as he screams. The door slams and the sounds of sobbing and clanking become quieter and quieter.

I redirect my attention to my shoulder and stand slowly, staggering on weak knees. I feel lightheaded as I wander to the Camaro. Once inside I try and start the engine, but I have double vision and can’t fit the key in the ignition. I drunkenly stumble back out the window and summon all my strength to run and find Deaton.

The bullet was already too close to my heart and I don’t know how far I get until I collapse in the road.

I am awoken by a blinding light. I’m freezing; any sweat that was on me feels ice cold. The pain in my shoulder has subsided for the most part. I wince into the light and attempt to sit up. I find myself on a metal table in the vet’s office, shirtless.

I see through the window of the door that the lights are off and the front door has the closed sign in it. Scott slips through the door and smiles at me. “Good morning.” I glance at the clock. 8:37pm. I roll my eyes.

Scott walks up to me and touches my shoulder, where a bandage is. He rips it off and unsurprisingly, there’s no visible damage. I roll my shoulders and flex the muscles around the area. Scott just stares at me.

“Dude, what happened?”  
“You tell me.”

He huffs before saying, “I was on my way to work and I saw your ass lying in the road. You’re welcome by the way. You’re lucky no one saw you.”

I’m lucky, huh? I smirk at that. Even though I’m alive, it’s going to be very difficult to see Stiles again. I rub my face with my hands and laugh, cold and dry.

“What?” Scott asks.

“Stiles’ dad shot me.”

Scott’s eyes widen. “Shit, dude, why?”

I sigh and scope the room before looking back at him. “Stiles is blind, Scott.” I’m not sure if it’s my information to share. Scott looks down, looking disturbed. At this time, Deaton walks in harboring his knowing smile and a small smashed bullet.

“How did you do it?” I ask gruffly. I’m not ungrateful, just- what?

“Let’s just say the Sheriff has to get his bullets from somewhere.” He turns it between his fingers, studying it. I climb off the table and head for the door, but I stop when Scott catches my arm.

“There’s something you should know.”


	12. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' POV

I don’t get how I still have tears left. 

After my dad pulls me into the house, I break free and follow the smell of lacrosse gear into my room. I think I locked the door behind me but I was too focused on Derek’s heartbeat. I heard the bullet tear into his skin with a disgusting noise and ever since then the beat that was always so constant, and been such a comfort to me, is dwindling. I sink to my knees when I hear it just... 

Stop.

It’s funny, because earlier I was sad that I couldn’t see my dad. But it seems to be a blessing in disguise because I don’t think I could even bear to look at him after what he’s done.

I don’t know how long I’m just sitting there before I hear him call a tow truck to get Derek’s car. When I hear it I can’t stop myself from fishing for my trashcan and vomiting into it. I feel so empty inside, besides the sudden and obvious clearing of my digestive tracts. 

Derek’s dead.

It feels kind of the same as when my mom died. Except she was sick and her death was so slow and gradual. Derek is just suddenly- gone. I like someone ripped a hole in my chest and pulled out my heart. Just the theoretical version though, of course, the real one aches and is beating too fast. The beat is irregular and I wince with every accompanying breathe. 

Now is not the time for a panic attack. I set my puke- bucket aside and sprawl out flat on the floor. It’s cold and hard and I try to focus on it, on how it’s real. Like how Derek was real and always kept me on Earth. But I can’t think about him, or how much I love him, how much I’ll miss him, how I didn’t say goodbye, how I really will never see him again, what I’m going to do without more lessons, whose gonna guide me places, whose going to sleep with me, whose going to love me, he can’t just leave me in the dark-

A sharp intake of breath.

I’m shivering and shaking on the ground, begging for air. The tears are pouring out of my face like some sort of normal social occurrence, like it’s just my thing now. The sounds coming from me are disturbing, chocked off sobs. Breathe Stiles, breathe.

I roll over on the floor so my chest is facing upwards, trying feebly to get more air. It’s crazy how closed off you feel when your vision is literally endless black. No matter what I do, I can only think about Derek. I need to breathe so badly.

I woke up in the same spot, who knows how long later. If my dad was smart, then he would’ve left me alone right now. But then again, if he was smart he wouldn’t have fucking shot my boyfriend and then left me for dead because I know for a fact that I have loud anxiety attacks. Either way, I’m still on the floor, and still in the dark. Fuck him.

With some effort, I sit up. My chest feels like there’s an elephant sitting on it. I scoot over to a wall, or maybe my desk or bed, and lean my head back against the surface. My throat is dry as hell and that vomit smell is just too much.

I want Derek so bad.

Is it worth it to just climb out the window? It’s not like I can go anywhere, or do anything. I pull my phone out of my pocket and feel for the middle button, followed by instructing Siri to call Scott.

“Stiles?” he didn’t sound tired, so maybe it’s not that late.

“Hey, Scott. Do you know what time it is?” My voice sounds worse than I thought it would. I cough into the receiver.

“Eh, 2:30 something.”

“In the morning?”

“Yeah.” Wow. “Dude, where are you?”

“My room, I’m pretty sure. But, yeah I have no idea, I’m blind.” I deadpanned.

“I heard.”

“You heard? From Deaton?”

“No, from Derek.” But Derek’s been with me the whole time until-

I dropped my phone.


	13. Boundaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek's POV

“And what’s that?” I asked Scott and shook of his arm. I’ve got to get to Stiles, he doesn’t know I’m alive. His father doesn’t know about how to care for him like this, I need to get him back.

“Well, since you’ve been… occupied, I’ve kept to the outer perimeters of the reserve, and it seems like we have some boundary issues with another pack.”

I took a step back into the room. “What kind of issues, Scott?”

Scott looks down, “They want to take out our pack.” He clears his throat, “One by one.”

I narrow my eyes. “Have they already taken someone?”

He nods solemnly.

“Who, Scott?” my vision flashes red.

“… Jackson.”

I tighten my hands into fists. Jackson may have not been my favorite beta, but I was responsible for him. “Is he dead?” I’m almost growling now.

“I don’t know, dude.” His shoulders sag in defeat. “We were going to look into what they wanted with Beacon Hills...” He paused when my eyes flared again. “I know it was a bad decision not to consult you first, I know, I’m sorry. But when we got out there, there were three betas and the alpha waiting. Jackson was just being, you know- Jackson, and they crossed into our territory. The alpha attacked me and the betas grabbed Jackson. By the time I got the alpha away from me, Jackson and the others were” his face scrunched up like it does whenever he has to give people bad news, “gone.”

“Dammit, Scott!” He winced. I was infuriated. Not at Scott necessarily, but at this pack. Why did they have to do this when all this Stiles shit was happening? It’s just another thing to worry about, and I can’t tell right now which is worse. 

I don’t trust anyone right now to take care of Stiles but myself, but I need him to be safe while I take care of this and he certainly isn’t ready to help just yet. I can’t keep losing members of my pack, though, and Jackson could still be alive. I start to pace around the room, knowing that Scott must be expecting some sort of great-alpha-plan out of me to fix all this.

But I’ve got nothing.

Scott senses my distress and steps in the pathway of my pacing. “What can I do to help?” He looks so earnest. I know deep down he’ll be loyal to Stiles, but I’m probably going to need his help too. I shake my head and look down.

“Scott… I’m going to need your help confronting the other pack. But, I can’t leave Stiles with his dad right now.” 

Scott stares at me for a minute with narrowed eyes before asking, “What about my mom?”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah, dude. She can watch Stiles, while we take care of this thing. She’s a nurse, I’m sure she’s dealt with blind people before, and they’ve known each other for years.”

I hate to admit it, but it’s a good idea, or at least it’s the best one we’ve got right now. I nod curtly to Scott just as his phone starts ringing.

His ringtone is really horrible and annoying, I roll my eyes.

He furrows his brow when he looks at the caller ID before pressing the phone to his ear and saying, “Stiles?”

My head perks up.

They’re conversation is muffled as my head begins spinning. I wonder what Stiles is doing right now, or if he even knows where he is. My heart pangs in my chest.

“No, from Derek.” Scott says and turns to me. My eyes widen and I snatch the phone from his hand before he has anything to say about it. He huffs in defeat when I relinquish it from his grip. “Stiles?” No response. “Stiles, its Derek. Stiles, where are you? Stiles!” No response. I pinch the bridge of my nose and start to pace around the room again. I look at Scott and search for answers in his blank expression. He just shrugs.

“…Derek?” his voice is so small and so sad, my throat starts to choke up, I’m so relieved to hear his voice. He sniffs in the other line of the phone. “You’re alive?”

“Yes, Stiles, I’m alive, it’s okay.” I smile to myself. Things might actually work out for once. “Where are you, Stiles?”  
“My room, I guess.”

“Were coming to get you.”


	14. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles POV

My face immediately felt hot, and tears slid down my face. He was never dead, yet it hurt so bad just to think that it was a possibility. I love him so much. 

Suddenly, I hear his voice coming from the phone in the darkness and I run my fingers along the ground to find it. 

“-are you? Stiles!”

I press the phone to my ear slowly and take a deep breath, “…Derek?” I sniffed. “You’re alive?”

“Yes, Stiles, I’m alive, it’s okay.” The comfort rushes through me like a strong current and I tip my head back, smiling to myself. “Where are you, Stiles?”

“My room, I guess.”

“Were coming to get you.”

I gave a sigh of relief and just listened to him breathe on the other end. “Derek?” 

“Yeah, Stiles?” 

“Please… Please don’t hang up.” 

There is a pause. “I won’t, I promise.”

There’s a rustling and clicking of doors before the sound of wind wicks the speaker. I pull the phone away from my head slightly because of the volume. After a few minutes I can hear an engine coming down my street.

“Son of a bitch.” I heard him say absently, under his breath. The car stops and some more clicking follows.

I furrow my brow, “What? What is it?” I sit up straighter. 

“He towed my car?” I smiled a little. I can hear two new heartbeats now and they approach my window. There’s some scraping toward where my window is and I hear it slide open with a grunt from Derek. His scent floods the room, along with something else familiar. It smells like… campfires, Axe body spray and something spicy- like cinnamon. Describing people smells is very difficult. There is a small thump; I imagine it as Derek landing on my bed from the window. This is preceded by another thump and a scampering toward my position. I set the phone down.

Derek settles down in front of me and presses his forehead to mine. I reach out and grab the fabric of his shirt, fisting it and pulling him closer. He curls his hands around the tops of my arms and holds me there for the longest time.

The unknown person coughed, I recognized it to be Scott at this point, and Derek pulled back slightly. His hands drifted up to my face and wiped the tears off my cheeks before pressing his lips to my forehead. It all felt to soothing and familiar and I didn’t want it to end. Derek stood and slipped his arms under my own to pull me up. I’m submissive and let him pick me up, bridal style; I snuggle into his chest momentarily, enjoying it before the sensation leaves. 

Scott slips back out the window and Derek climbs up on the bed, still holding me like it takes no effort. There’s a strange struggle of limbs and a rush of cold air hits me, I’m pretty sure I’m being passed through the window. Scott is holding me now, evidently more awkward, with less love, more friendship. I feel his face for his nose and pinch the tip of it before wiggling my hand back and forth, he squishes his face up with embarrassment and attempts to pull his head back, I know the expression well. “Hey, bud.”

“Hey, Stiles.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

Derek hops through the window and closes it quietly, before taking me back into his arms. I’m pretty sure I can walk, but I’m not going to say anything about it.


	15. Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek POV

I know people think I’m overprotective. But I don’t care.

I cradle Stiles into my chest and crawl into the back seat of Scott’s car. Scott grunts at the sight but climbs in the driver’s side and pulls away from the house. I keep Stiles in my arms and angle myself so my legs are across the adjacent seat and my back is to the door. He snuggles closer still and I bring one of my hands from around his waist to run through his hair. It’s gotten long now; I know he’d want it short if he’d noticed. I press my lips against his temple and breathe in his delicate scent before setting my chin atop his head. I feel him smile against my neck.

“I missed you.” I whisper into his hair. 

His smile broadens and he repeats the phrase back, just as quiet, if not more so. I lift my head from his and place my fingers under his chin, angling his face towards my own. His eyes are sleepy and lazy, looking in no particular direction. I capture his lips in mine and his eyes flutter open before closing. It’s been so long since we’ve kissed and this one is unhurried and just… nice. Perfect. Stiles’ hands come up to cup my face and I cover them with my own. He hums contentedly as I suck his bottom lip into my mouth. I smile when the noise reverberates through my mouth and skull.

Scott clears his throat in an obvious and irritated way and Stiles pulls his head back. It was then when I noticed that the car was parked off the side of the road, by the preserve. “Your house?” Scott says, gesturing towards the woods. He brings his hands to the steering wheel and taps his fingers across the rivets. “I feel like there is something important happening right now. Remember, Derek, it wasn’t even an hour ago?” He opens the door and slips out, heading into the woods. His faced was flushed, and I could tell he wasn’t really angry.

I turned my face back to Stiles’, who seemed miles away. “What’s going on?” he mumbled before turning his face towards me once again. 

I took a deep breath before telling him the situation. Stiles gritted his teeth and straightened up more and more as the story went on. By the time I was done, we’d shifted so he was in the seat next to me, with his hands in his lap, bobbing up and down with his knees. His eyes were closed, chin angled down. His heart thudded sporadically at a worrying pace.

My brows furrowed, “I thought you didn’t like Jackson?” I asked him. I moved my hand to set it on his knee. I barely touched him before he snapped it away with a growl.

I looked at his face; his eyes were open and glowing yellow. I could see his canines lengthening and he grimaced. “That’s not it.” He said lowly as his features darkened with an expression I couldn’t place. I could smell the anger and pain wafting off of him, covering his normal, sweet scent I’ve come to love.

“What is it, Stiles? Calm down, you can tell me. Deep breaths.”

He shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie as his nails extended and sharpened into claws. He snapped his mouth shut, closed his eyes and took deep breaths. His voice was small when he spoke, “I… I can’t help you. And I want to. That was me, that was my purpose. Making plans. I wasn’t obsolete as a human, but I felt worthless because I couldn’t do what you guys could do. But now, I-I’m just d-dead weight!” His voice waivered at cracked with each word. 

Hearing him say this made me feel guilty all over again. It wasn’t about me, now is not the time to feel sorry for myself. I slid over the seat and peeled Stiles’ hands out of his jacket pocket. His claws were small, still. I ran my thumb over the nails in what I hoped was a soothing manner. They gently retracted. “You can always help, Stiles. We wouldn’t be anything without you.” I took one of my hands away from his and placed it on the back of his neck, applying enough pressure to guide his head to my shoulder. He sniffed and I felt hot tears pool on my collarbone. He shifted and pressed our thighs together. “Just not this time, you’re not ready.”

He audibly sobbed at that last sentence, before fisting his hands in my shirt. He shook his head and whined into my chest. “No, no, no-“ he choked, fighting back the continual tears. I snaked my hands into his hair and held him tight, trying to still him. “Please, Derek, no! Y-you’re going to go there yourself, a-and I’m going to just sit at home in the dark- literally- waiting to know if our even alive! Please, I don’t want to lose you again!” his voice was muffled against my shirt, but his words stung the air regardless. I just pulled him impossibly tighter, knowing I couldn’t hurt him and shook my head.

“Jackson could still be alive. And if there is a chance he is, I have to go find him.” Stiles pushed at my chest and looked, for the first time, right into my eyes. 

“Please.”


	16. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles POV

After a while I gathered myself, nodded at Derek and we exit the car. He took my hand and led me through the woods until I heard several new heartbeats around me. We slowly climbed the steps of his house, once again reminding me how helpless I am. Derek doesn’t seem alarmed at the amount of people at his house, so I figured, why should I be?

“What’s up with his eyes?” I heard someone whisper across the room, it sounded like Boyd.

“I’m blind, not deaf, Boyd.” I deadpanned. I smiled when I heard him stiffen and give off a couple small, confused sounds. Thank you, werewolf senses. Someone else shifted and I was hit with a wave of flowery… awful. Erica? She always flips her hair when she’s distressed.

“You’re blind?” She asked.

“That’s what I said, darlin’.” I smiled in the direction of her heartbeat, keeping my eyes dead, before returning to a grumpy face that would rival Derek’s, I’m sure.

Isaac spoke this time. “And you got the bite?” I bit my lip and nodded. I saw a flash of yellow, and nothing else, coast across the dark of my vision. My patience is where right now? Eh, nowhere.

They step closer to me and I feel a hand on my shoulder that is not Derek’s. I shake it off and take a step back. I know my way around the house pretty well now so I try to (what I hope looks like confidently) make my way over to the staircase. My aim is just to be alone right now. I walk slowly in one direction until I feel a hand on the small of my back.

Derek nudges my back in the same direction, but with more conviction and certainty. It’s good to know I was heading the right way in any case. He stops pushing, takes my hand and taps the first step with his foot to tell me it’s there. I appreciate his subtlety; he knows I’m not trying to be the center of attention right now. We climb the stairs slowly and round the corner, down a hallway, now completely out of sight from the group. We stop and he kisses my forehead, before giving my hand a final squeeze and heading back downstairs. 

I stand still there for a minute, just waiting for him to re-enter the living room. 

“How did it happen?” I hear Erica say. I direct my full attention to listening.

“Peter.” Derek grunts, there’s an edge to his voice that dares people to continue talking.

“Is he dead?” Isaac.

“Yes.” Derek replies sternly. I sink to my knees, keen to hear the conversation, but at the same time, unable to block it out.

“What are we going to do about Jackson?” Scott this time.

Derek begins pacing, his voice changing positions when he explains, “That’s not really my speed.” He stops. “I’m thinking that Scott, Boyd and I will approach the border. Erica and Isaac wait off 50 to 100 feet just in case, and we’ll negotiate. We have to go tonight. And if Jackson’s dead…” A beat. “I’ll kill them. All of them.”

No, no, no, no. 

I scramble to my feet and head for the stairs. I get down about five before I trip and I’m caught by strong arms just before my body goes completely horizontal. I didn’t even know I was crying until Derek straightens me up and I press my face into his shirt, squirming with the discomfort of my flushed face and sudden lack of breath. My lungs shudder and strain for oxygen and I feel Derek clamp around me in a strange and hostile way. I writhe and turn, trying to escape his grip. My back is now pressed to his chest and he curls his hands around my biceps, lifting me uncomfortably.

He half carries-half pulls me outside, down the steps, toward the cellar he took me to during the full moon. He presses me down onto the floor, and despite my struggling, manages to chain me down again.

By this time I can feel my teeth, ears, and nails lengthening, and despite my lack of air and constant tears, I scream at Derek to stop. “Please, Derek! Don’t do this!”

He remains motionless and set his hands on either side of my face, attempting to still me. He guides my face in his direction until I stop writing. I sit panting for a few moments before whispering, “Please, please… please.” He kisses my forehead and rubs circles to my face with his thumbs. I feel one thumb scrape my lip, a feeling quickly replaced with his mouth over mine. The kiss is quick, but I lean forward, yearning for more. “Don’t leave me.”

“I love you.” Is all I hear before he stands and leaves.


	17. Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek POV

I don’t want to leave Stiles there. But I have to. I can still hear him writhing and whimpering as I re-enter the house. The pack is still in the living room, looking to me for answers. I shook off their quizzical expressions and gestured for them to follow me. Once we were all outside, Scott approached me.

“So, we’re just going in blind?” he cringed when he realized his choice of words. I scowled at him.

“What do you suggest?” I grunted.

“I… I’ve got nothing.” He shook his head and looked down. For the rest of the walk the group remained silent. Erica dropped off at one point, declaring it her position and same with Isaac a bit later. The three of us approached the edge of the reserve, where Scott said he met with the other pack earlier. I could hear other heartbeats, and I’m sure they know were not oblivious to their positions. What we can do now is wait for them to materialize.

It doesn’t take long for three people to come creeping out of the trees. They line up side by side about fifteen feet from us and stop. Their heartbeats remain steady, evidently not threatened by us. The one in the middle is the alpha, I can sense it. The other two are betas. Its dark, but I can tell they are all plain featured, wearing dark tee shirts and jeans. Essentially, they are boring, which for some reason adds to my vehemence. 

“Who are you?” I asked, an edge to my words.

The alpha smiled and looked at his betas before returning his gaze to me. “Well, I suppose we’re your replacement.” His smile broadened and the light caught on his lengthened canines. I scowled and let loose a low growl. “Hmmm.” He continued. “But, don’t worry. We’ll take care of the blind one.”

My eyes widened and I snapped my teeth unconsciously. “How do you know about him?” I almost yelled, trying hard to hold my position. 

The alpha took a step forward. “Oh… Derek, is it?” I balled my fists up at my sides. “We had a great friend once. I believe you knew him. He was incapacitated for several years, but when he was ready, he claimed a beta in hopes to rebuild his pack. A boy, just running through the woods with an inhaler.” Scott stirred next to me. “He made it clear to us that his target could have easily been this other young man. This particular boy was cunning, clever, snarky, but he refused the bite. And of course, we caught wind of how that story ended.”

Peter. That son of a bitch wanted to turn Stiles, that’s what he was trying to tell me before the accident. The anger bubbled and burned within me and I lunged forward. Scott and Boyd’s hands were immediately around my arms holding me back. The alpha cackled at the sight and approached me. Once he was within inches of my face, I snarled and snapped in his direction, now fully shifted.

“Derek, Derek, Derek.” He cooed. “I promise, we’ll keep him safe. Just as safe as… oh, what was his name…? Jackson! Oh, he was a joy. So confident, but broke so easily.” 

It all happened so fast. My betas released me and I seized the alpha. Scott and Boyd took on his betas, and I could see in my peripheral Isaac and Erica entering the scene to help. I dug my hands into his shoulders and pushed him into the ground. He pushed at my chest with a strength I did not anticipate and managed to get me off. He clobbered up from beneath me and shifted into full alpha form. I lunged forward again, only to get shoved forcefully into the ground by him, one handedly. He pressed me down further into the forest floor with his foot. I cringed and writhed in pain.

The alpha just stared at me, primal and dominant. He lifted his head to the sky and let out a piercing howl. Out of my struggling, I noticed one by one, nearly twenty other wolves appear from between the trees. I looked to my left and saw my betas beaten and bloody, being held by larger, stronger werewolves. I closed my eyes and turned to look back at the alpha again. He’d shifted back his human shape, and the wolfish grin returned to his face. He kneeled down, pressing his knee into my chest, causing me to gasp. 

“Oh, dear. I thought you’d put up more of a fight, Derek.”


	18. Hiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles POV

Why would he do this to me? I am not useless, I’m not. I’m not sure what I can do, but I know that being here isn’t helping anything.

I’ve shifted completely now and I’m pulling as hard as I can against the chains. The heartbeats are all gone now. I’m completely alone. I wish I could see right now, purely to know what direction to pull in. 

After writhing for a while, I feel one corner of my bindings give slightly. I pause and take a deep breath before angling myself away from that corner, leaning back and pulling as hard as possible. I scream at the pain when the other bindings tighten and this one loosens. With a loud, metallic snap, the chain gives. I quickly unwrap the chains from my torso, stand up and kick the bindings away.

I sniff the air, looking for some sort of sign of an exit. I try to remember what Derek has taught me about navigation without eyesight. I pick a direction and walk slowly in it, with my arms out in front of me. What the hell do I not have a cane? Whatever. There is a point in my journey when I become aware of a wall. As in I run into it. I’m still shifted, so I face my attacker and slam my fist into it as hard as possible. I hear a loud crack, followed by bolts of pain from my knuckles through all my bones. I pull my arm back quickly, feel that my joints are all pointing in the right direction and set off again, huffing and growling.

I pause when I feel a gust of wind hit my face. I stop and take in the feeling, before following its direction. The sounds of the outdoors become louder and louder. Eventually my hands are met with long metal bars. I wrap my hands around them and shake, but they are not keen to give. After all that, these bars are not stopping me.

I wrap my hands around one bar, lean back and pull. In the midst of the struggle, I hear a low howl in the distance. It’s not Derek, or anyone I know. It’s signaling someone, a lot of someones. Derek’s probably not doing too good.

I take a deep breath and wrap my hands around the bar again. I pull fast and hard, my muscles screaming with effort. The bar comes clean off its structure. I keep hold of it, using it to feel my way around as I slip through the bars and take off in a light jog into the forest.

I have no idea where to go; I’m just heading in the direction of howl. I approach an area and am immediately bombarded by scent. Someone has been here, recently. I can smell the pack, and a lot of Derek on the ground, but there’s also many other scents. Many, many other scents. I’m immediately worried because, where did they go?

They haven’t been gone long, the scents are too strong. They’ve got to be nearby by default. I become as still as possible. Derek thinks I can hear better than him even, because in humans it’s common that when one sense diminishes, another heightens to compensate. 

So I listen.

There is shuffling pretty far off, but it’s all I have to go on, so I follow it. I use my makeshift cane to help me navigate around tree roots, which have become lesser as minutes pass. My thinking is, I’ve approached a clearing, as well as the familiar thrumming of heartbeats, two of them. I’m oddly proud of myself, being blind but finding my way. Good one, Stiles.

I continue on, slower now, trying to be inconspicuous. The end of my rod taps against a vertical surface. I cringe at the noise it made, hoping I didn’t make anyone aware of my position. I feel at the surface, it’s shingled and covered with cracked paint. A barn? Let’s go with that. I can tell that I’m alone outside, but there are a couple of voices breaking the silence within the structure. Once again, I press my ear against the surface, close my eyes and just… listen.

“You’re not even going to be able to find him. He’s in hiding.” Derek says, his voice is pained and riddled with exertion.

“Oh, don’t worry, we will. And he’ll join us. And if he doesn’t. Well just… kill him.” The one who’s talking now has a certain command and resonance in his voice, much like Derek once he gained alpha status. I can hear a sadistic smile in his words.

“It really is a bummer that he won’t be able to watch while I kill you. Poor blind boy, only being able to listen when I rip your throat open.” Oh, dear lord, he’s talking about me. My eyes spring open and I just barely control the whimper I want to exert. “Isn’t that right, Stiles?” the man called, louder, obviously cognizant of my whereabouts. My hand flies up to cover my mouth and silence my breathing. I guess it’s not too surprising, I heard them, why wouldn’t they be able to hear me? 

Derek’s heartbeat picks up the pace radically. “Stiles, run!” he yells.

I obey, I spin round on my heel and head back into the forest. I’ve abandoned my rod and end up tripping after a few feet. I can hear someone following me, and it’s certainly not Derek. I feel arms wrap around me and I come crashing to the ground with the weight of another individual on top of me.


	19. Closure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek POV

I awoke to a searing pain in my core, coupled with an ache in my shoulders and wrists. I look up to see my arms in shackles, attacked to a wide frame, with a plethora of wires encircling my body and pumping electricity throughout. Great.

The room is hazy. My vision eventually clears and I blink into sight the alpha, sitting in a chair about ten feet away, unarmed and alone. “Where’s m… Where’s my pack?” despite my efforts, my voice sounds cloudy and distant to my own ears. The alpha chuckles.

“Far, far, away, Derek.” I lunge forward as much as I can and growl, but am quickly overcome with pain from the electricity. I notice that he’s sitting next to a tower of boxes with dials and plugs sticking out from all sides. The pain subsides slightly when his hand comes off a switch toward the top of the tower. “Oh, Derek, don’t be such a… oh what’s the word… a sour-wolf.” He grinned sadistically when my skin blanches.

“How do you even know about that?” I’m not particularly a fan of pet names. It just brings me back to ‘Der-Bear’ from Peter and Laura. But sour-wolf is just… I don’t know, more personal. Between Stiles and myself only.

“I know everything, Derek.” He stood from his chair and walked closer to me. “I know how much you love him, and how much he loves you. It’s sweet really, like the lion that fell in love with the lamb.” He took my face in his hands. “It’s just too bad, isn’t it?” I jerked my face back and he dropped his hands, taking a few steps back.

No matter what, I’m not going to tell him where Stiles is. “You’re not even going to be able to find him. He’s in hiding.” 

He approaches the wall to the left of me in the barn and pauses, listening. “Oh, don’t worry, we will. And he’ll join us. And if he doesn’t. Well just… kill him.” He shrugs, looking towards the floor. “It really is a bummer that he won’t be able to watch while I kill you. Poor blind boy, only being able to listen when I rip your throat open.” I scowl at him, but then he raises his voice, angling his head towards the wall again, “Isn’t that right, Stiles?”

I listen hard, and can hear another heartbeat outside. My heart clenches with fear, “Stiles, run!” I bellow. The alpha races over to the tower of electronics again and cranks a dial before flipping the switch and slipping out the door. The pain is like nothing I’ve ever felt before and it’s crippling. I try to focus on Stiles, he needs me right now. I pull and writhe at the shackles, but the pain is too overwhelming. My vision blurs, but I strain my eyes towards the door when I see the alpha enter, gripping a writhing Stiles in his arms.

The alpha walks over to the tower, and shifts his grip on Stiles, so his nails are digging into his neck, causing him to become submissive. He flips the switch off and the pain recedes to an extent. But I relish it and use all the energy to focus on Stiles. He was shifted, but the alpha tightens his grip and Stiles gives and slumps, his ears, fangs, and teeth sinking back into his body. He pants and grimaces at the sensation. “Leave him alone.” I growl.

“Oh, Derek, I don’t think you are really in a position to be barking orders at me.” He scolds gently.

“I’m not?” I say before summoning all my energy into a shift and pulling out of the shackles. I’m pretty surprised at my sudden strength, but I don’t really care. I rush over to the two, and finally his smirk is gone, replaced by a much better shocked expression. I rather briskly push Stiles from his arms and he lands in an unorganized clump in the corner. I cringe at the sight, but I know he’ll heal.

The alpha growls and catches my attention, he’s shifted as well. Not full alpha form, but regardless, my hatred for him is limitless. I lunge forward and pummel him into the tower of boxes. I press him hard enough against it to break skin and the machinery fizzles and cracks under the strain of weight. It’s electrocuting him, I can feel it. He feebly grips at my arms to push me off, but I do not release him. He eventually stops writing, and I feel satiated as I watch a steady stream of blood leak out from the corner of his mouth. I let go of him and take a few steps back, examining my work. His body is melded with the electronics. Occasionally it clicks and fizzles, making the otherwise dormant body twitch and seize.

I hear a small huff coming from the corner, and I look over to see Stiles, trying to stand and rubbing his face in his hands. I take one step towards him before something rustles behind me. I turn to see the alpha stand up with great, unexpected speed. I only get to lift up my arms before-

Black.


	20. Alpha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles POV

I was just coming to, my neck was throbbing and there was a strange electrical sound in the distance. My hearing was more or less hazy, but I heard the shuffling and a noise I will never forget. The sick, slick slide of claws tearing through fragile flesh.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

I felt power surging through my veins unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I immediately felt strong… unstoppable. I was shifting again for no apparent reason, but it felt… right, good. I felt like I needed it. My vision floods red, and in sporadic bursts, I start to see shapes, silhouettes.

I gasped; it’s not just the moon this time. I smile with excitement, although I don’t know if it’s appropriate. The shapes slowly turn into the inside of a barn, with two people besides me inside. One is lying on the ground, the other towers above him, looking down in a condescending manner. I still can’t make out who they are, but I am grateful for the amount of vision I have so far. The feeling of power is still coursing through my veins, and with a final pulse, my vision clears completely.

Needless to say, I’m not happy with what I see. 

Derek is lying in a pitiful mass on the ground, slowly being surrounded by a puddle of blood I can only guess is from him. My heart stutters painfully at the sight. I redirect my gaze to the person standing over Derek. He’s glaring down at Derek menacingly, panting. He’s covered with blood, but there is a high concentration under the nails of his left hand. 

The primal instinct to kill this unknown person enraptures me, temporarily masking the grief I feel for Derek. He jerks his head up from Derek’s body and looks at me. I lunge forward without a second thought and shove him into the wall.

He struggles against me but I hold firm. I raise my right hand and wrap it around his neck. I’m going to savor this. I dig my nails slowly into the sides of his neck, intent on clasping my fingers together completely. I break the skin, and the man start coughing and gurgling, I just continue on. I make a complete fist within his throat and I even feel the tips of my claws scrape bone. With a handful of flesh, I yank my hand back, sending blood cascading down his front and a spatter across the ground behind me. I toss the piece of flesh to the floor with a wet thud, which pairs well with the man crumpling to his knees, and hunching over to the ground.

I take a breath and prepare myself for what’s behind me. I turn slowly and my eyes fill with tears. This is a million times worse than when he got shot, because I know this is it. I sink to my knees next to him and take his face in my hands. He’s so pale, so fragile looking. My hands smear blood across his face, but it is quickly washed away by my tears. My lungs clench and my breath leaves my body like I was punched. 

I pick his head up completely and set it in my lap. I fold my body over top his and breathe in his dwindling scent. I twist my fingers into his hair and place wet kisses on his face. He just remains still the whole time. I begin to sob uncontrollably.

“No, no, no… Don’t do this. I love you.” I blink the tears out of my eyes. I would rather be blind, deaf, paralyzed for all I care. I have nothing anymore.

Nothing miraculous happens. Derek is just… dead. My heart feels like it’s been ripped out of my chest. I just stay there with him for god knows how long. Then the realization hits me:

I’m the alpha now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone throughout this process! Your comments and feedback kept me going and I appreciate everything that was said. I'm also sorry for any pain that I may have caused...
> 
> If you want to be cheered up by something fluffy, I suggest my other Sterek fic, 'Risky Business'.
> 
> That is right, promoting myself :)


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